


This Isn't Home

by ennervated



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-29
Updated: 2012-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-19 20:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ennervated/pseuds/ennervated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has always cursed the day Hermione was made a prefect. He wasn't only going to lose some time with her, he was now also required to put up with Hermione spending that time with Draco. And he hasn't missed how Draco looks at his girlfriend. But maybe something can be done to turn the odds into his favor...</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Isn't Home

"As a child, I was sure Hogwarts was going to be my home, since the Manor never was."

He was standing with his back to her, looking out of the astronomy tower window, both hands on the rims, as if it was taking everything he had in him to keep on standing, to keep on talking. The night was colder than usual, but he didn't seem to notice. It was a full moon, she noticed suddenly; his hair looking almost white in the pale light. If she had been any nearer, she would have noticed how his hands shook, how every ragged breath seemed to exhaust him. But as it was, Hermione stood in the far end of the room, her eyes wide in amazement that, after so many months of waiting, he was finally, _finally_ talking.

"I know I have little business complaining," he murmured as he stole a quick glance at her face, "for I was fortunate, more fortunate than most people I knew. My father never took me with him to Gringotts, but I knew this much: we had gold—a lot of gold. He gave me everything I asked of him, no matter how ridiculous. I should have known then that there was a price—there always is—but, of course, being a child, I had no idea.

"He treated me well enough, not a word or a hand out of place. He was never very affectionate, except, of course, when there were other people around. My mother, on the other hand, was his exact opposite," and here he chuckled softly before continuing. "She was always fussing: _Why didn't Draco comb his hair? Why didn't Draco ever stop playing with his broomstick? Why didn't Draco want to study basic Charms with me?_

"They should have been a perfect balance, my father and my mother—him with his cold eyes and that smile that hinted at secrets he would never tell me, and her with her hugs and constant praises at the littlest things I did. They should have been a perfect balance, but no. I threw them off."

"What do you mean?," Hermione asked. To the wizarding world, the Malfoys had always appeared to be a perfectly functional, happy family, albeit more arrogant than necessary. Of course, not everyone knew of their previous loyalty to the Dark Lord; but even some of those who were privy to this information had been won over in the years of Voldemort's absence.

Draco didn't seem to hear her, and she sensed that he was getting to whatever he needed most to say to her, the reason he asked to meet her here. "The night before I started my first year at Hogwarts, my father went inside my room. I was surprised; he usually just called me into his study if he wanted to talk to me about something. It's funny, don't you think, how often I mention my father here, and yet we never really talked at home?" _No, it's not_ , Hermione thought as Draco laughed humourlessly. "He sat on my bed and gave me one of his most piercing glares, the one I knew he reserved for muggles and bloodtraitors and—" He stopped abruptly, but Hermione had no trouble finishing his sentence for him.

"Mudbloods."

"M-muggleborns." He took a deep breath and grabbed the window's ledge harder, although she didn't notice. "He was silent for a while, just sitting there and looking at me. I was more than anxious for him to leave. Never before had my father given me the time of day, and now suddenly he was beside me and _noticing_ me for reasons he didn't voice out. After a few more minutes, he stood up and walked to the door. He took hold of the door knob and looked back at me. Finally, he spoke."

"What did he say?" She was whispering, and she had no idea why.

"That he expected me in Slytherin."

"And...?"

"And then he left."

Hermione waited, but Draco didn't seem to have anything to add. "That's it?" she said louder than she intended. The air of mystery that initially made her want to listen seemed to vanish entirely. She was irritated; he had made her go up here in the dead of the night to tell her about his family's money and how his daddy wanted him in the same house everyone in their family had been. She expected something more... satisfying than this. Sure, she missed him, but it wasn't as if she didn't have Potions homework and three essays waiting for her downstairs.

Draco turned to look at Hermione. She arrived earlier that night with his back already to the door opposite the window he was facing, so she hadn't properly seen him yet. In fact, she hadn't seen him in weeks; this was their first meeting since that night in the Room of Requirement. But now, his eyes met hers.

Her heart skipped a beat, maybe even two, just as it did everytime she had seen Malfoy this past month. Hermione was a very logical person, and just beneath those blue eyes she was looking into, there was a problem waiting to be solved...

"Hermione," he said softly. _Hermione_? He never called her _Hermione_ before. It had always been Granger, not _Hermione_.

"What?"

"He wanted me in Slytherin—"

"Yes, you already said that."

"—because I was supposed to be in Gryffindor."


End file.
